senbazuru
by swoodilypooper
Summary: A tale of a wallflower girl, an imperfectly perfect sick boy, and a whole ton of colorful paper cranes. In which Yukimura learns that perfection can be crippling, Amaya learns the power of a name, and caged birds take flight once more. A one-shot dedicated to coffeelatte.


**Foreword: **This one-shot is dedicated to coffeelatte. You're like a literary Totoro: unforgettable, magical, and completely freaking awesome. Thank you so much for everything, but mostly for introducing me to doro. Haha, I kid, I kid. Anyhow, you're pretty awesome, so here: have a story in your honor. I'm not nearly as clever or as funny as you, so I stuck to my guns but I made it happy _just for you_. Also, a big thanks to doroniasobi for helping out and making this story not so suckish. I rabbu guys. Coffee, I hope you like it.

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**senbazuru**

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_.one._

Hiroku Amaya wasn't sure about what she should expect when the Student Council Vice President thrust a garbage big _filled_ with cards into her arms, told only to give these to an infirm classmate at a local hospital. Amaya didn't really understand how anyone could procure so many "Get Well" cards without being some sort of international celebrity. However, when she had cautiously opened one (some of the cards gave off _very_ suspicious odors), and saw Yukimura Seiichi's name at the top, she figured that was about right.

Amaya hadn't ever really talked to Yukimura before, but then again, she didn't really talk to _anyone_. Calling her introverted would probably have been an understatement; Amaya got terribly nervous when she so much as saw someone's _shadow_, never mind seeing their actual body. She was more than content to observe the world from the fringes, walking under an umbrella of anonymity.

However, among many things, Amaya was a very caring person, and so that was how she found herself at home on a Saturday (not an unusual phenomenon) making paper cranes alone in her room. Amaya had bought special origami paper for that purpose alone that ranged from every imaginable color – rich oranges the color of African sunsets, pale blues found in auroras, and deep, luscious purples that looked like fine wine. Her goal was to make a thousand as per Japanese tradition; a thousand paper cranes amounted to one wish. Amaya suspected that it wouldn't hurt for Yukimura to have a wish to hold onto seeing as how he was deathly ill.

There was a slight problem – Amaya was terrible with origami.

She struggled to fold the delicate paper precisely, getting frustrated when it turned into rumpled balls of failure. Her trusted mentor, Google, was only so helpful. YouTube didn't fare much better either. It wasn't that she didn't know how to make the cranes; it was just that she couldn't translate that knowledge into product.

Over the course of the night, her frustration mounted as her supply of colored paper started diminishing at a drastic pace. The floor of her room was littered with crumpled balls of every shape, size, and color, all a testament to her failure.

It was finally when the clock struck midnight that Amaya finally finished her first proper paper crane. It was nothing special - merely a milky white color akin to alabaster, wrinkled slightly, folded imprecisely - but at least it was done. Amaya reverentially set the sole paper crane atop the desk in front of her vanity mirror. Satisfied with the fruit of her labor, Amaya collapsed onto her bed, a soft smile on her face, and fell sound asleep.

_.twelve._

Sunday morning a week later was the predetermined date for Amaya's meeting with the so-called "Child of God." To say that Amaya was nervous as she walked to hospital was an understatement; Amaya was terrified. Yukimura's deified status at school made it impossible for Amaya to feel anything less than absolute mortification as she stood in front of his ward. With a trembling hand, Amaya softly knocked upon the wooden door inscribed with a plastic place-marker labeled _Ward 4 - Yukimura Seiichi _and jumped when the unlocked door swung open slightly.

"Come in," a gentle voice called from within, and Amaya steeled her nerves.

As bravely as she could, Amaya walked into the room and made a beeline for the bed resting by the window side. On top of said bed was a slight teen with purple hair and pale skin wearing a pair of blue hospital scrubs. He was looking down at a thick book resting in his slender fingers. Amaya noticed that his fingers almost _caressed_ the book rather than simply holding it.

It was several seconds of awkward silence before Yukimura looked up from his book, smiling serenely at her while fluidly placing a bookmark into the book and setting it aside. Amaya squirmed uncomfortably as Yukimura examined her shrewdly with pale violet eyes that glistened like shards of ice. She was just a wisp of a girl, weighing less than a hundred pounds sopping wet. Her long dark hair fell straight down her shoulders in a glossy curtain, and as was her wont, she twirled one particular strand dangling by her left shoulder around her finger.

"I'm Yukimura Seiichi. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said at long last, extending a pale hand towards her.

Amaya jolted, realizing that she was being addressed. Tentatively, Amaya reached out towards him, squeaking, "H-hi, I-I'm Hiroku Amaya."

Yukimura's sphinxlike smile widened marginally. "Amaya," he whispered, savoring the sound of her name like a fine wine. "What a beautiful name."

A redness instantly crept into Amaya's cheeks, a move that didn't go unnoticed by Yukimura. His smile widened once more.

"Why don't you sit down?" he said, gesturing elegantly to a chair hiding innocuously against the corner of the room.

Amaya moved jerkily as she pulled the chair over to his bedside. "So," Yukimura murmured, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her eyes opened wide as she realized that she had left his garbage bag outside when she knocked. Wordlessly, she quickly jumped out of her chair and retrieved them for him while he sat on the bed with an amused glint in his eyes. Amaya gave him the bouquet of red and white carnations she had brought, and he took the time to smell them before placing them on top of his bedside table beside his book.

"They're lovely," he murmured, sounding very much like contented cat.

Amaya was arrested with an image of Yukimura in a cat costume and suppressed a giggle; she didn't want him to think she was weird or anything.

"They're wilted," Amaya said bluntly, surprising herself with her forwardness.

Yukimura's eyes widened. "Hmm, I hadn't noticed."

"Liar."

After a second of silence, Yukimura languidly said, "You're a strange girl, Amaya-chan."

Amaya still disconcerted with her sudden burst of confidence, floundered internally as her mouth spoke of its own accord. "I wasn't aware we were on a first name basis, Seiichi-kun."

His laugh was like tinkling glass. "I find your honesty refreshing," he said, smiling softly.

Amaya frowned. "I find your _slipperiness_ disconcerting."

Yukimura grinned. "Now I've never been accused of _that_ before."

Amaya was horrified with the way the conversation was progressing; it was as though she was watching it take place as a casual observer. However, something about Yukimura's suave demeanor annoyed her somehow. Still, this wasn't like her at all. Therefore, it was duly appropriate that she gasped internally when she shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Well, there's a first time for everything."

To this, Yukimura pursed his lips and turned to peer out the window. "Indeed."

Later that night, Amaya's mind was still reeling from how snarky she had been around him. It wasn't like her to do or say such things. She was far more used to squeaking out replies, but something about his, well, _slipperiness_, frustrated her and made her want to provoke him. He was much too socially apathetic for her liking.

Wanting to calm down, she sat down on the floor of her bedroom and folded eleven more paper cranes, finding the task slightly more manageable now that she had finished her first. It was still long and frustrating work, but Amaya found that it wasn't as impossible as it was last weekend.

_.fifty three._

Two weeks later, Amaya found herself in Tokyo General Hospital to visit Yukimura once more. As of last night, forty-one more cranes had joined her collection. The diversity of colors was stunning - there were crimsons as dark as blood, yellows as deep as gold, grays as pale as moonlight - no two colors were ever repeated. The task was growing increasingly easier as time elapsed and as Amaya gained practice.

She found herself folding them whenever she got bored after finishing her homework. Her parents didn't question her about her newfound pursuit; as long as it doesn't interfere with her schoolwork they had said. Amaya found the menial activity somewhat gratifying. She figured that the story about the wish was probably impractical, but it was more a symbolic gesture than anything else. Amaya cared, even if Yukimura subtly got under her skin with his insouciant, masturbatory personality.

Amaya was walking out of the hospital elevator when she stopped. Two boys wearing golden jackets stood hovering in-between Yukimura's ward's doorframe. Although Amaya couldn't see them from the front, she would wager that they were probably Sanada Genichiro and Yanagi Renji, two boys that usually accompanied Yukimura during school hours.

The one with the black hat, Sanada, was speaking. "The Kantou tournament is nearing a close."

"We're doing as we expected," Renji added.

Amaya imagined Yukimura staring out the window. "I see," his voice trailed off from inside the ward.

Sanada said, "Don't worry yourself with the affairs of the team; focus on recovering your health. We'll be waiting for you to take up the helm at Nationals."

She imagined him smiling. "Of course."

With that the two other boys nodded tersely to Yukimura and started to walk towards her, or rather, the elevator. Sanada walked stiffly past her, pointedly ignoring Amaya standing there. Renji turned his head fractionally to observe her before turning away, following his friend.

After they left, Amaya knocked on Yukimura's door. "Come in," he said again, but Amaya noticed an undercurrent in his tone.

When she entered the room, Yukimura made an effort to smile. "Ah, Amaya-chan, this is a treat."

"It's nice to see you as well, Seiichi-kun," Amaya squeaked, feeling shy once more.

Yukimura made a show of deflating. "Oh, dear. I was hoping for some your former bravado to help cheer me up," he said softly, his lips turned upwards in a feral grin.

Amaya chose to pointedly ignore his comment. "I saw Sanada-san and Yanagi-san a few seconds ago."

At this, Yukimura pursed his lips, no longer smiling. "Ah, yes. They came to update me about the team's progress in the Kantou tournament."

"How are they faring?" Amaya asked.

Yukimura managed a grimace. "They're playing as expected."

Amaya felt her boldness return at his nonchalant arrogance. "Are you worried they'll lose without you?" she asked.

He turned to her, his eyes glinting icily. Amaya suppressed a shiver. "We never lose," he said frostily.

"You seem sinfully overconfident," Amaya blurted, and Yukimura raised an eyebrow before turning to the window.

"I think it's best if we talked about something else, Amaya-chan."

"H-Hai."

_.two hundred and thirteen._

A month later, Amaya found herself sitting at the rooftop of the hospital, watching Yukimura dig around in the garden. She sat on a wooden bench and took the time to admire the view from the top of the hospital, swinging her legs back and forth like a toddler. Again, she turned her gaze to the frail teen kneeling in front of a cactus plant that he seemed to be _caressing_. Amaya didn't understand how one _caressed_ a cactus, but Yukimura apparently enjoyed caressing pointy objects.

"It was a present from Seigaku's Fuji," he said, still looking at the plant fondly, answering an unspoken question.

Amaya nodded even though he couldn't see her. Feeling bored, Amaya took a few sheets of paper from her bag and began to deftly craft them into paper cranes. Lately, she had taken to carrying the paper around everywhere just in case she ever got bored. During any scraps of free time she had, one could find her diligently folding her paper cranes. On the rare circumstance that someone took to asking just why she was making all these cranes, she would offhandedly answer that it was merely a hobby. She felt like it was a betrayal almost to Yukimura if she told anyone of their true purpose, for whatever reason.

Over the days, she had accumulated a total of two hundred and thirteen cranes. She was hoping to finish all of the cranes by the time of Yukimura's surgery. She had found that as time elapsed, the task grew easier, and that she was getting a better grasp on the legend itself. Amaya reasoned now that maybe there was some validity to it after all. Maybe the care and time that went into making all these cranes were what imbibed them with their wish-granting powers. She fancied that the cranes were pregnant with magic and affection, and that that in and of itself was enough to make wishes come true.

Of course, as time went by, Amaya grew closer to Yukimura. She learned to be more comfortable around him and found that she could be as bold and abrasive as she liked, as long as she didn't talk about tennis. Tennis was Yukimura's Achilles Heel; it made him clam up almost instantly, and a frigid, unapproachable air surrounded him at the word.

Lost in her own world, Amaya didn't realize that Yukimura was looking up at her curiously. "What are you making, Amaya-chan?"

Startled, she looked up before smiling sheepishly. "Paper cranes," she said, opening her palm to show him a perfect rosy pink crane.

"Ah, _senbazuru_?" he asked inquisitively, eyeing the line of cranes on the bench beside her.

Amaya nodded in affirmation.

"That's very thoughtful of you," he said softly, and Amaya looked up when she heard the sincerity in his voice.

He smiled a strained smile before turning away and looking at the sprawling city below. After a few seconds of tense silence, he spoke again, his voice jagged. "I hate hospitals."

"I think that's a universal sentiment, Seiichi."

Yukimura shook his head. "That doesn't change how I feel. It's like the place is sucking my happiness away. I get the feeling that people often die at hospitals simply because they drain the vitality of their occupants," he said.

With a twisted grin, he looked at her over his shoulder. "I certainly don't feel like the Child of God anymore."

And there was the heart of the problem: Yukimura wasn't perfect anymore. He couldn't move the way he wanted to, do what he wanted to, or enjoy what he wanted to. Amaya understood that tennis was something precious to Seiichi, something that was impossible to divorce from his identity from. She had heard the whispers at school, that the tennis team was so good that maybe they didn't even need him anymore. Of course, the regulars put a stop to such discourse when they heard it, but the underlying sentiment was resilient.

"Do you have any need to be?" Amaya challenged him.

Seiichi stared hard at her, his violet eyes piercing her. He cleared his throat and when he spoke, his voice was raspy. "W-We should go back downstairs."

Amaya stared back equally as forcefully. "If that's what you want."

Seiichi didn't answer, instead rising shakily to his feet. Amaya stowed her cranes inside her bag and lingered behind him, in case he required assistance. They were almost to the door when Yukimura, who had already been hobbling, faltered and fell down with a sharp cry.

Horrified, Amaya dropped her bag and ran to him when he thundered, "Don't!"

Frozen in place, Amaya stared blankly at him. Seiichi pressed his hands flat against the ground and feebly attempted to push himself up. "Don't," he said once more, but this time, his voice was a shadowy whisper.

Amaya stood transfixed as he struggled to get on his feet. When he finally managed to, he faltered once more, teetering precariously. Amaya reached out to him, her fingers grasping, when Seiichi suddenly swatted her hand away. His face was a stony, frigid mask as Amaya retracted her hand.

His eyes softened at the sight of her hurt expression before he took her hands in his own. "Don't," he whispered, his voice feather light.

_.four hundred thirty seven._

It was dark in the hospital when Amaya began to leave, having spent the day with Seiichi. He had seemed to be in good spirits that day. He had apologized profusely after the rooftop debacle, but Amaya understood his actions. After feeling so useless, she reasoned that Seiichi had wanted at least some degree of agency, anything to prove that he wasn't a broken toy any longer. Maybe he was trying to strive to maintain his title as the "Child of God." A "Child of God" would have had no need for assistance from a mortal such as herself, no matter what the circumstances.

She wasn't hurt, merely perturbed. Amaya couldn't understand why Seiichi tried so hard to be perfect when it was so impractical. It seemed at odds with the rest of him. Amaya wondered how someone could be so irrational when it came to contest. Seiichi was the kind of person that wouldn't tolerate failure in himself or anyone around him. He seemed to breathe Rikkai Dai's "Win at any cost" creed, but Amaya got the sense that he was unhappy. Maybe all he truly wanted was just to do what he enjoyed, without making a contest of it.

"-yes, Yukimura-kun's test results are back," Amaya heard and froze, standing next to a corner in the hallway.

"What do you make of his case, doctor?"

"Yukimura-kun? With that body, I'm sure he'll never play tennis again."

Amaya felt her world shatter. Was there truly no hope?

"Oh, Seiichi," she thought to herself mournfully.

She hadn't realized it until then, but she had grown to become quite attached to the frail teenage boy in Ward 4. Maybe it was because she was one of the privileged few that had ever seen him as someone who wasn't the "Child of God," but merely Yukimura Seiichi, a boy that wanted so desperately to be perfect in a world that was anything but.

Amaya ran home that night, ignored her parent's concerned queries, and locked herself in her room. She sat down on the floor, hastily retrieving her colored paper, and mechanically began making cranes. Some time after she started, the tears began rolling down her face in hot rivulets, but she didn't stop. Amaya wouldn't stop making her paper cranes even if her hands bled and her bones splintered; Seiichi needed his one wish, and he needed it now.

_.six hundred eighty nine._

When Amaya waltzed into the hospital on a stormy Sunday, she felt a sense of apprehension clinging tightly to her heart. Ever since she learned of the terminal nature of Seiichi's condition, she had felt like she was playing with hot glass. If Seiichi noticed her treating him differently, he never spoke of it. However, with each passing day, Seiichi grew weaker and weaker still. His inherent paleness had given way to a gray, almost anemic complexion that practically shone with sickness. Amaya was fairly certain that he was probably suffering from depression.

She stepped off the elevator and walked briskly to his room, stopping when she noticed that it was closed tightly and that all the Rikkai regulars, save Sanada, were waiting outside with sullen faces. A million different explanations ran through her head - had Seiichi been carted into surgery early? Were there new developments that complicated his health? Was he simply sleeping? All her questions were answered when she heard Sanada's voice on the other end.

"-I'm sorry, Yukimura, but at the upcoming National tournament without a doubt-" he was saying, speaking quickly as though he was nervous.

"Would you please leave?" Seiichi whispered intensely. Everyone could hear Sanada cringe at his words.

"'_Upcoming_' you say? I don't want to hear such words!" Seiichi bellowed suddenly.

The regulars looked at the door with concern and horror etched on their faces. Sanada came out with an ashen expression and closed the door gently behind him. Amaya felt her blood chill in her veins when Seiichi screamed a blood-curdling scream, pouring all his misery, helplessness, and fear into one single sound.

The regulars looked down at the floor with pain-stricken expressions on their faces. Akaya had buried his face in the crook of his elbow; Marui was crouched and staring at the ground as tears pooled in his eyes; Niou was leaning against the wall, looking up at the ceiling with an intense expression.

Amaya surged forwards and made for the door when Sanada blocked it. "It's best if you didn't go in," he said tightly.

"Step aside," Amaya said, her voice cracking. Her usual shyness had given way to fierce compassion.

Kirihara bristled, looking up from the crook of his elbow with red eyes. "Didn't you hear fuku-buchou, _girl_?" he sneered.

"_Let me in_," she repeated to Sanada as if she hadn't heard Kirihara.

"Hey-" Kirihara began, standing up.

Oddly enough, it was Niou who spoke. "Enough, Akaya," he said softly before looking at Sanada with shining silver eyes. "Let her in, Sanada."

Sanada stared long and hard at Niou, his expression stony. Wordlessly, he slid away from the door before throwing Amaya a terse nod that she returned in kind. Bracing herself, she opened the door softly without knocking and slipped into the room discretely.

The room was dark, but she could make out Seiichi curled up on his bed, his fists tightly clenching the hospital blankets. Amaya was rattled to see hot tears running down his gaunt face. She had never seen him cry before, and it made her heart feel like it was being twisted sharply in opposite directions. Hastily, she took a step forward that echoed throughout the room.

To Seiichi, the sound was like a gunshot; his head whipped up so quickly that it startled Amaya. His thin lips twisted into a feral scowl, Seiichi screamed, "_Get out_!"

Amaya shocked herself when she said, "No."

Seiichi looked at her with a flabbergasted expression, clearly unaccustomed to being denied. "Maybe you didn't hear me; I said _get out_."

Ignoring him, she walked closer to his bed. "No," she echoed softly.

The dark look that passed his face made her throat constrict uncomfortably. "Leave me alone," he said miserably. "Please."

Amaya sat on his bedside, abandoning her usual post at her chair near his desk. She reached out and squeezed Seiichi's shoulder gently, and tears began silently streaming down his face. Seiichi didn't sob, shake, or otherwise move; tears simply poured down his face.

"I'm weak," he whispered.

"Why? Because you're not perfect anymore?" Amaya challenged. She was sick of him feeling sorry for himself.

Seiichi looked up with blazing eyes. "Because I can't move anymore, Amaya."

Amaya felt like she had been hit in the face with a shovel.

"Nervous system failure, they're saying," he said bitterly.

Amaya looked up, and when she met his eyes, she had an epiphany. Seiichi _knew_. He knew that he wouldn't ever be able to play again. Somehow, he had either overheard a hospital employee like she had, or he had figured it out by himself.

"When's your surgery?" Amaya asked steadily, trying to prevent her voice from cracking.

Seiichi turned away to look out at the setting sun. "Does it even matter anymore?" he murmured, giving her a sidelong glance.

Amaya blinked. "It's all you have left, Seiichi."

He wiped away the tear tracks on his face before turning to her with his classic enigmatic smile. "It is, isn't it?"

_.eight hundred and ninety four._

Amaya now spent all of her time trying to make Seiichi's paper cranes; at lunch, in the car, while she ate, even while she studied. She had become quite proficient, folding the cranes in mere seconds. During school, her classmates looked at her curiously as she slaved away manically in some dark corner, rapidly depleting towering stacks of colored paper. By this point, she had made almost nine hundred cranes.

Seiichi's birthday was coming up soon, and she wondered what she would get him. She found herself idly wandering around stores, looking for anything that might have pleased him. It was when she was walking home from school one day that she found something that she just knew Seiichi would like.

So that weekend, when Amaya wandered into Seiichi's ward to see him reading a copy of Plato's _Republic_, she carried a draped object. Amaya sat down on his hospital bed, as she had done since the Nationals fiasco (as she had dubbed it) when Seiichi looked up with a foxlike smile.

"What's this, Amaya-chan?" he asked. Why he maintained his use of honorifics was beyond her. She just called him Seiichi nowadays and nothing less. Symbolically, she felt like it was the only to render his true persona bare and vulnerable; all the superfluous prefixes, suffixes, and nicknames just masked the man. To Amaya, there was no "Child of God"; there was only Seiichi. She just wished that that were enough for him and everybody else.

Amaya wasn't sure exactly when she had started _thinking_ about him by his first name, but she much preferred it. "Yukimura" seemed to carry all sorts of godlike connotations, but "Seiichi" seemed to reflect his true spirit, freed from his crippling need to be perfect.

"Happy Birthday, Seiichi!" Amaya cried, removing the drape to reveal a dove flitting about its cage.

Seiichi smiled and took the cage from her. "Oh, he's lovely."

"It's a she, sexist," Amaya said with a smirk.

He smiled serenely as he studied the bird. "_She's_ lovely," he amended. "Where'd you get her?"

Amaya frowned. "The poor thing was just lying there; its wings were injured. I took care of her for a few weeks until she got better, and then I decided to give her to you."

Seiichi looked up suddenly from the bird to stare at her intensely. "You certainly have a way with crippled creatures, Amaya-chan," he murmured cryptically.

She blushed beet red and went instinctively to twirl a strand of her hair, when Seiichi caught her hand in his own, looking at her earnestly. "O-Oh, I don't know about that," she stammered, to which Seiichi chortled softly.

He extended a pale finger into the cage, stroking the bird's soft plumage thoughtfully. After a few seconds, he looked up with a determined expression on his face. Seiichi turned to Amaya and cleared his throat, getting her attention.

"Amaya-chan, could you bring me my wheelchair?" he asked politely.

She blinked once before bouncing off his bed to wheel his wheelchair over to him. Seiichi set the cage down on his bed and held onto the railing surrounding the bed, trying to lower himself into the wheelchair.

"Should I call a nurse?" Amaya asked with concern, seeing how he was sweating and straining.

He looked at her with a strained smile. "It's alright - this is something I need to do myself."

Amaya watched curiously and concernedly as he continued, but she started when Seiichi fell to the tile floor.

"_Don't come!_" Seiichi commanded forcefully, gritting his teeth.

With his arms, Seiichi crawled towards the wheelchair, gripping the armrests and dragging himself up. Amaya tried her hardest not to interfere, but found it almost impossible, seeing how pitiable Seiichi was trying to just get into his wheelchair. After much heaving and exertion, Seiichi finally managed to settle into his chair, and he pulled the birdcage onto his lap before slowly wheeling himself towards the window.

"Amaya-chan, the window, if you will," he asked breathlessly.

Opening the window, Amaya slid away to watch Seiichi, wondering just what it was that had him so worked up. Seiichi set the cage on the windowsill and, without warning, opened the cage's door. The dove instantly flitted out of the cage, flying into the golden red sky as Amaya darted for it in vain, crying out.

Furiously, she wheeled towards Seiichi, but she stopped when she saw the euphoric smile on his face as he watched the dove's ascent. He turned to her, his smile widening, and said, "Living things don't like to be caged, Amaya-chan."

_.one thousand._

Amaya sprinted towards the hospital as fast as she could against the wild wind. Today was Seiichi's surgery, and she was late; he would be going into the operating room in a few minutes at most. She dashed out of the elevator doors the second they opened and burst into his ward. Amaya froze when she saw that it was empty.

Bolting out of the empty ward, she raced to find a nurse. "Where's Seiichi?" she demanded at the nurse's station.

A lady looked up. "Yukimura-kun is currently undergoing surgery. He won't be conscious for a few more days, and he won't be accepting visitors for a few weeks," she informed her politely.

Amaya stepped back in shock. Seiichi was already in surgery. She never got to give him his paper cranes. Seiichi would never get his wish. All that effort had amounted to _nothing_. Amaya wandered the hospital waywardly, struggling to make sense of the black emotion rearing up inside her. Somehow, she wandered back into Seiichi's room and found the large box that held all one thousand of the paper cranes that she so painstakingly made.

Reverently, she opened the box and was assaulted by a panoply of color - reds, blues, violets, oranges, magentas, yellows, golds, silvers, greens, pinks - all the colors of the rainbow and everything in between. Amaya had wanted to tie them all together with Seiichi before he went into surgery. She had wanted so desperately to see the look on his face. She had wanted him to know that it was fine that he wasn't perfect because neither was she or anyone else. She had wanted so direly to show him how much she cared for him.

For a while, she stared blankly into the contents of the box, now meaningless. Impulsively, she walked towards the open window and cried out as she emptied the contents of the box. A thousand paper cranes caught on the heavy gale blowing through Tokyo and scattered them in a dazzling symphony of color. In that second, Amaya closed her eyes and wished with every fiber of her being for Seiichi to be well again. When she opened them, she blinked back her tears and slumped against the wall, drained.

_.zero._

Amaya sat on the park bench, waiting patiently for Seiichi to show up. He arrived shortly, his scarf billowing in the autumnal wind. Seiichi sat down besides her with a secret smile tugging on his lips. Amaya instinctively scooted closer to him, and they sat with their shoulders touching.

"How did Nationals go?" Amaya asked eagerly.

"We lost," Seiichi said, his tone oddly cheery.

She gave him a wary glance, hoping he wasn't in some unhealthy psychological denial. "You don't sound too upset about that."

He turned to face her with an enigmatic smile. "I'm not."

"Oh," Amaya said, dumbfounded.

"Yeah," he said contemplatively. "That's how the cookie crumbles, I suppose."

"And you're not mad?" Amaya asked again suspiciously.

"Well, a strange girl once told me that I was sinfully overconfident," Seiichi said conspiratorially.

Amaya blushed deep scarlet. "Y-You're teasing me!" she cried.

With a twinkle in his eye, he leaned in closer. "Wouldn't dream of it," he said good-naturedly.

After a few seconds, Seiichi spoke again. "Being confined to that awful bed gave me a lot of time to think, Amaya-chan."

"Oh?"

"Uh huh. I thought a lot about what you said that day on the rooftop."

"What'd I say?"

"You asked me why I needed to be the 'Child of God'. It took me a long time to realize it, but I don't think that I really have an answer. I used to think that it was just because I needed to win, but now… now I'm not so sure," he confided, biting his lower lip.

"Maybe- Maybe more than being perfect, it's the pursuit of perfection that matters," Amaya offered. Seiichi looked at her intensely, so Amaya continued.

"You, me, everyone, we'll never be perfect, but maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe what matters is that we can improve, that we can get better, that we try to be perfect even though we'll never get there. Maybe that's all that anyone can ever hope for," she said quietly.

For a while, Seiichi and Amaya remained silent, both looking at the other. Seiichi opened his mouth to say something when something floated gently down onto his lap. Amaya watched dumbfounded as he delicately held her first paper crane, the alabaster one, in the center of his palm.

She and Seiichi craned their necks upwards and suddenly they were accosted by a maelstrom of color as nine hundred and ninety nine paper cranes spiraled around them both, locked in an eternal dance.

They both watched with wonder as they circled and circled like a fantasy from some long forgotten dream. The cranes floated higher, higher, higher, before vanishing from view altogether as quickly as they had come.

Seiichi looked at down at the crane in his hand and then to the girl sitting besides him, a dumbfounded expression on his face. In that moment, the chains that bound him came undone, and for once, Seiichi felt what it was like to be completely, unequivocally _free_. A smile slid slowly across his face as he held the paper crane up to the sunlight so that it shone.

"Hey, Amaya-chan?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm happy."

"Me too, Seiichi. Me too.

* * *

**A/N: Senbazuru is a Japanese tradition where one makes a thousand paper cranes for a wish. This is kind of inspired by that. Yukimura is most probably OOC, but I've always wondered what his "human" side would be like - this is a meditation upon that. I'm not going to ramble because I promised myself I wouldn't, so all I'll say is this: I hope you liked it, and if you did, please as always: Follow, Favorite, and Review. **


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